


Readjusting

by Spiltlava



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil 6 - Fandom
Genre: But I just don't have the time, Eventually I plan to pick it up but for now, It's just a one shot, M/M, Was originally planned to be a full series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:18:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiltlava/pseuds/Spiltlava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Piers doesn’t remember how he survived the underwater base.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Readjusting

Piers doesn’t remember how he survived the underwater base. He remembers taking the virus after his arm became mangled, he remembers doing it for Chris, to save him. He remembers running, jumping, blasting through obstacles so they could leave. He remembers yanking off his BSAA badge, taking his captain’s hand as he gave him encouragement about some twisted idea that they were both getting out. Remembers jerking his hand away, leaving him the badge. He remembers Chris’ face through that glass panel, the whisper of no, so sorrowful, so sad.

He remembers saving his life when HAOS attacked him again in the escape pod. Remembers falling, ready to die.

After that, it’s blank.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He wakes up and everything’s too bright, there’s no weight where the mutilated arm of his was, no pulsing going through his body that came with it, but he can’t move his head because he’s not all there.

 

He’s so  tired . When sleep pulls him under, he doesn’t even care.

 

He wakes next and he doesn’t know what time it is, but the lights are dimmed and the curtain isn’t pulled. He’s able to turn his head this time, but not much else. Still, after some maneuvering, he’s able to see his arm.

Or. Lack there of.

 

 

Where his right arm is, is an empty space. He can see the clean bandages, recently changed, looping around his upper chest and shoulder. He just stares for a few minutes, and he can hear his heart pick up not from the constant beeping, but from the blood suddenly rushing in his ears.

He’s panicking, breath picking up but soon there’s a nurse there and he’s putting him back to sleep.

 

 

When he wakes up next the lights are dimmed.

He is still alone, the panic does not grip him so fiercely upon the sight this time. Only by a starting revelation that hits him like HAOS had.

He will never hold a rifle again.

 

Hyperventilating, another nurse, he’s gone.

 

It continues like that for a couple more days before he begins to calm, it takes until the end of the second week for him to stop deluding himself. His arm won’t grow back, the only reason he’s here right now is because Jake Muller’s blood.

 

Jake Muller. 

 

Albert Wesker’s son. Who held a gun up to his captain’s forehead, called him a puppy, who’s tongue was quick and words were spiteful.

 

Jake Muller who was caught. Who they rescued. He feels a little resentment. If Chris hadn’t told them to leave, would he still have his arm right now? Would his right eye not be white? Would his face not have the scars it does?

 

Would… Would… Would…

 

That’s all it was.

 

It didn’t matter anymore, he’s past it. He’s not past it. But being pissed off about it isn’t going to change anything. So he just lays down, he grumbles to himself, and if he focuses hard enough he can hear footsteps, heat signatures, perhaps voices. But that’s impossible, because he’s still human, isn’t he?

 

The answer is no.

 

He took the C-Virus. He will never be human again.

 

* * *

 

 

Perhaps that is why when he got out of the hospital, Chris did not come see him anymore.

 

Perhaps that is why whenever he comes out of his house, people gasp and stare, weary and afraid of what he’s become, what he looks like. How Sherry gives him sympathetic looks, Leon regards him with no hostility, but no hospitality either. He is exactly what they were fighting.

 

He wonders why he has survived.

 

It has been a month and he still scarcely gets visitors. None of them Chris. It hurts more than it should, that his captain doesn’t even want to come visit him. Not even to see if he is okay. 

But is it because of guilt or is it something else? He has no one to blame. Except for his personal vendetta, as Piers has reminded him once before. Shortly after all of them. 

 

When he searched for him, six whole months after he left because of what happened in Edonia. Because of what happened to Finn.

 

It doesn’t make any sense when the person who comes the most often is here again.

When he allows him in without a second thought.

When they sit at his small kitchen table-- _Why would he need a bigger one if it’s just him?_ \--And drink from the coffee he made specifically for his visitor.

 

When his visitor is Jake Muller, the one who saved his life, the one who went from wanting fifty million for one pint of his blood, to fifty dollars.

Albert Wesker’s son, Jake Muller.

They sit there and drink silently, they don’t bring up his arm, or his face, and Jake looks at him the same as he ever has, if not a little more understanding after everything they’ve both gone through.

They don’t talk about Chris, or the C-virus, or Carla, Ada, none of it.

Piers brings up Jake’s job, asks if he’s gone back to being a mercenary; Jake laughs, asks why he’d ask such a stupid question. But he knows in the small quirk of his lips that he has, because this way he is able to fight off the last of the B.O.W.’s, that he might be able to save more lives and get paid doing it.

Jake asks him why he stays in such a shitty apartment, Piers gets defensive, tells him there’s no need for a better one. Firing back about comfort or luxury, that he knows he has the funds for it. A bitter smile, a comment about how he doesn’t know if he deserves it.

 

A smack upside his head, startling him from his thoughts.

 

Jake is frowning.

“What happened to that hot headed kid who never knew when to shut up?”

 

“He got his arm crushed and injected himself. He grew up.”

 

“This isn’t growing up, Nivans. This is giving up.”

 

Jake stands, makes a comment about how he needs to suck it up and grow some balls, says he’s going to take his shower. He lets him, and mulls over his words while he’s in there.

In a way, he supposes, he is right. But Piers is nothing if not stubborn, so when the mercenary who saved his life leaves the shower, it’s back to playful banter. Hiding understanding for each other under age old habits. Things that are not quite insults, nor are they compliments. Somewhere in the middle.

 

When Jake leaves, he tells himself he will keep this shitty apartment, if only to prove a point.

He does.

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo. First post on here and well, I'm rather nervous.  
> Also, this is un-beta'd, and English is also not my first language, so if you find any spelling mistakes or anything such as that, please do not hesitate to let me know!!!


End file.
